


Treat Me Like I'm a Princess

by hunted



Series: Original Works [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Alcohol, Banter, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Domestic, Dominant Trans Man, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Heterosexual Character(s), Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexual Trans Male Character, Intoxication, Kissing, Love, Marriage, Masculine Trans Male Character, Masculine Trans Man, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prosthetic (Penis), Romance, Short, Slice of Life, Straight Trans Man, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vignette, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: A romantic, smutty story about a woman and her loving transgender husband....The author is a trans man. No feminising language is used for the trans male character's body.He is in a relationship with a straight woman. The female-centric smut tags apply to his wife, not him. The title is from Head Over Feet by Alanis Morissette....Do not re-upload this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Original Works [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480958
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Treat Me Like I'm a Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Was gonna make this story longer, but I'm happy keeping it short ^v^  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> For more information on representing trans men, see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). For more information on being a cis person, and dating trans people, see [this video](https://youtu.be/NTIbnACfjCw), and [this video](https://youtu.be/8HS_WZSlbCs). If you're a man who is interested in trans men, see [this article](https://www.advocate.com/sexy-beast/2018/8/08/16-things-i-learned-having-sex-trans-men). If a straight woman is with a trans man, she is still straight. If a gay man is with a trans man, he is still gay. We're not a fetish, and we're not women. We are all different, and yes, some of us are dominant in bed.

She leaned back in the couch, pillows settling around her, one hand holding a glass of red wine aloft. She wore a silk dressing gown, tentatively held closed by a loose string of silk against her belly, its tenuous neckline sloping and only just managing to conceal her chest. When she raised her glass to take a sip of wine, the shimmering fabric shifted and revealed the edge of her brown nipple. She felt the air hush against her skin, and was excited by it. She wasn’t used to being naked or even semi-naked. Being sensual and sexual was new... and thrilling.

Her face felt tired, her skin stretched thin, bags beneath her eyes from long shifts and exhausting nights. The exhaustion was well-earned and almost worn with pride. Working as a nurse felt worth her time. Worth the pain and weariness.

But she liked doing this sometimes, too. Disconnecting from it all. She’d lit a fire in the hearth, and it was roaring brightly, heat washing over the room like a tangible wave of energy. She liked the way flickering orange settled over her in bursts, flavouring her skin and painting her with mysterious shadows. Her dark hair was out and straightened, spilling over her shoulders, silky and soft. She shifted on the couch, drawing one bare leg over the other, drawing her heel over her shaved-smooth skin.

She liked feeling sexy. She liked feeling womanly.

The alcohol hummed through her warmly, nestling thick in her belly. She felt like she was soaring, and simultaneously melting back into the couch. The world felt safe and happy. All she needed now was for her husband, Daniel, to arrive home. She wanted sex, tonight, and she hoped he would want it too. He wasn’t very sexual most nights, but she’d gently eroded his gender dysphoria, encouraging him to believe that she genuinely wanted him. She loved being touched by him. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t always eager to be touched back.

Tonight, she was bare and exposed. Her face was moisturised and soft, makeup washed off. Her cheeks were decorated with gentle pink marks, acne troubling her well into adulthood, but her husband had repeatedly told her that she was beautiful no matter how much makeup she chose to wear. She saw what he meant, now. Her eyelashes were thick and sensuous, her dark eyes mesmerising, her lips naturally full and inviting, and her skin was pretty. She liked being clean, she liked applying cream to her face in rubbing circles, liked feeling that her pores were open and hygienic. But beyond that, there was no shame. The pink smatterings across her cheeks were just adornments. Like freckles.

They had treated each other so tenderly throughout the years. Built their self-confidence so passionately.

When she was midway through taking her next sip, she heard the jangling of her husband’s keys. Excitement bubbled in her chest, and she looked eagerly towards their front door.

Daniel swung the door open after fiddling with the key for a while. He looked exhausted, just like her, but she thought he was sexy as ever. His flat chest was broad and solid, and it filled out his business shirt snugly, his waist tapered and thin, muscular body refined through years of dedicated exercise. He was cleanly shaved and had slicked his hair back, a strand of blond flopping down onto his forehead, blue eyes hooded and heavy with fatigue. He shuffled inside, shrugging off his suit jacket, loosening his tie. He stopped walking when he saw her, eyes fixing upon his nearly-naked wife as she reclined in the lounge.

She grinned happily at him, allowing heat to bubble in her belly and flow through her.

“Hey, baby,” she said, tilting her shoulder in such a way that the gown slipped open an inch more, “How was your day?”

He smiled back at her, huffing a quiet laugh. “It was terrible.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Nah.” He whipped off his tie, dropping it on the floor and letting his jacket crumple beside it. He strode over to her, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “I’m home now. It’s fine.” He bent down to kiss her, and their lips met in a tender, gentle brush. “How are you?”

“I’m great.”

“Was the hospital alright today?”

She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about it. He kissed her deeper, tasting wine in her mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her.

She exhaled against his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gorgeous, too.”

“Mm.” He continued kissing her, undoing the buttons at his wrists. “You’re just saying that.”

“You know I’m not.”

He laughed into her mouth. Without another word, he sunk to his knees before the couch, still fully dressed, shirt only a little undone. She inhaled smoothly, spreading her legs. He placed his hands on her knees, slowly slid them up her thighs as he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against her belly. She tried to breathe evenly, warmth pooling in her groin. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his pale hair, strands soft against her palms.

“You can go and shower if you like,” she whispered, words barely distinguishable above the crackling of the fire, “Go relax.”

“What’s more relaxing than this,” he murmured happily, the statement barely even a question. He kissed her belly button. With half-lidded eyes, expression sultry with arousal, she watched him lick his way downwards, until he was sucking at her, lips closed around her sensitive bud of flesh. The fire crackled, the house silent aside from the noises they made here in this room, and she felt like she was flying. It was partly the alcohol and partly the euphoria. She loved him so much. And she was so happy.

She laid her head back against the couch, closing her eyes. She knew she wouldn't last long. It felt too good.

"I thought about this," she murmured, "While I was at work."

He hummed in response, the low noise vibrating against her pleasantly. She was so wet.

"I dreamed of you visiting during my lunch break. Stepping into the bathroom with me. You'd press me up against the wall..." She shifted, rolling her hips toward him, seeking her pleasure, "You'd touch me, just like this... You'd put one hand over my mouth... So that nobody overheard... And then..."

She let her voice trail off. Small sounds, breathy gasps that she couldn't hold back, were falling from her lips. No other lover had ever taken the time to make her feel this good.

***

She came with a shuddering gasp, going rigid on the couch, pulling his hair. She knew it must burn his scalp, but he didn't complain. She sensed that he enjoyed it; being held by her, feeling the intensity of her enjoyment. Knowing that he was responsible for it. Her thighs pressing against the side of his head, trapping him there. Right where he wanted to be.

"Fuck... Shit, Dan..."

Eventually, she went limp. Collapsing back, even more loose-limbed than she'd been previously. The gown had fallen down her shoulders, revealing her breasts, and she liked it. She liked being this way. Liked that she was safe to be honest with her husband. There was no part of her which demanded shame or concealment, not in his eyes.

Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, the long line of her throat exposed as her head was tipped back, her mouth open as she panted for air. Daniel knelt over her, a knee on either side of her body. He kissed her deeply, cupping her face. She smiled against his mouth, eyes closed. She liked the sensation of his large hands framing her cheeks.

"What d'you wanna do next, baby?"

The fact that he asked meant more was on the table, which excited her. She never begrudged him his limits, but she did celebrate the nights when he wanted to take things further.

"I want you inside me," she whispered. "I want to feel you, deep..."

He nodded, their noses brushing. "I want that, too."

***

He fucked her in bed, his cock long and proud, thick as it slid inside her. It emerged from the shorts he wore, as real as any other man's cock. She was pressed down on her belly, gasping, the side of her face against the sheets. She liked being taken this way. There was a sense of helplessness about it, a beautiful trust that made the sex even more delicious. She liked the way her breasts pillowed against the bed, jolting as he moved inward suddenly.

He was so considerate and gentle in their lovemaking. Sometimes she liked it rougher, more forceful. They'd explored roleplay, and never really enjoyed it; better that they exist as themselves. The sliding and thrusting of their bodies was enough. The best part about it was that he worshipped at her feet; he may have been the one on top of her, jerking his hips back and forth, but she was in control. She pulled the strings, and his devotion to her guaranteed her safety. She liked knowing it was _him_ fucking her. Not a character, not a roleplay trope. She wanted this. This, and nothing else. Their souls meeting in honesty.

The bed rocked. Loud noises that she knew their neighbours could hear. It turned her on. She didn't think she'd _ever_ been more aroused. She liked knowing people could hear her. That people knew she was being fucked by her husband.

"Feels good," she moaned, "Danny..."

He huffed against her neck, pressing deep inside her, slamming against a sensitive depth. He nuzzled her cheek, so effortlessly powerful and masculine, even as he was loving and gentle. His muscular body was hard against her, arms keeping her pinned still. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man.


End file.
